


Your Majesty, Your Highness

by Introverted_Survivalist



Category: Trolls (Movies 2016 2020), Trolls: The Beat Goes On (Cartoon)
Genre: Baby Fluff, Baby-Settling, Banter, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Hugs, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Introverted_Survivalist/pseuds/Introverted_Survivalist
Summary: Branch and Poppy argue on who should settle the baby and end up cuddling.
Relationships: Branch/Queen Poppy (Trolls)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 36





	Your Majesty, Your Highness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DandelionCares](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DandelionCares/gifts), [RagingCycloneZorch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RagingCycloneZorch/gifts).



> Just a small gift for one of the two best writers I know.
> 
> I feel like this whole thing feels a lot similar to TheBroppyTrain's _Breakfast Burritos_ after I wrote it, but I promise I never intended to make it that way. :')
> 
> Forgive me for my crude grammar mistakes, I'm not a native.

Once again, both Branch and Poppy were awoken by the familiar sounds of wailing from behind the walls. It was hard to believe it came from such a tiny creature, they wanted to go back to sleep and ignore it but it was impossible.

“Branch…”

“Mm?” A tired hum came from underneath the sheets, from a particular troll who had proceeded to bury his face in the covers as soon as he heard the crying.

“Go settle the baby.”

“No, it’s your turn.”

“Branch, I’m tired.”

“She’s your child before four o’clock in the morning.”

Prussian blue hair poked out from under the bedsheets, twisting and turning as he tried to drown out the ear-splitting noises. Poppy eventually found herself sitting up, unable to stand it anymore—she loved their little bundle of joy, she really did. But she couldn’t help but think sometimes that babies did nothing else but cry. Still, how could she complain? She was a baby—and babies needed a lot of attention.

“Fine, fine, fine—rock, paper, scissors to see who has to calm down the baby.”

Finally, a handsome face peeked out from the covers with a visible scowl on his face, obviously distressed from being woken at least once every night in the midst of his beauty sleep, eyelids heavy. He wearily raised an eyebrow at her suggestion.

“Glad to see we’re dealin’ with this like adults.” He slurred.

Well, sarcastic as always—but he wasn’t complaining.

“Rock, paper, scissors.”

Poppy couldn’t help but smile in relief upon seeing her paper over his balled fist. Still, the baby’s cries were starting to get to her, and all the ignoring was becoming rather fruitless.

“... two out of three.”

“I won fair and square.” 

“Be a good sport.”

Begrudgingly, she gave in. When she again saw that she had won the second round of their impromptu rock, paper, scissors game, she let out a quiet ‘heh’ of triumph, hardly audible due to the wails, and slumped back down onto her pillow, curling the bedsheets around her body.

Branch, on the other hand, wasn’t too happy—with a long groan (if someone else heard it, they would have thought he was being dragged off to mow a lawn with a pair of nail clippers), he sat up, dragged his feet off the bed, and rubbed his knuckles onto his eyes. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. Branch watched his legs dangle above the floor. Slowly but surely, he pushed himself out of bed, letting his feet hit the off-white polyester carpet. 

He shuffled his way across the room, only half-awake as he set off to calm the crying from the other room—it seemed to have become louder… or was he just tired?

Branch fumbled with the doorknob and scooped up the crying baby into his arms, murmuring quietly into her ear. “Daddy’s here, daddy’s here.”

A tiny hand, as the wailing started to quiet down, reached up to touch his ear—he let her, tilting his head to the side so that she could get access to it, mumbling softly at the baby, eyelids still half-closed. Tiny fingers closed around his earlobe and gave it a small, feeble squeeze. She was fussing at this point, both arms reaching out from the warm bundle of fuzzy blankets.

He didn’t know how many seconds—or minutes—had passed (he might have started dozing off while standing), before he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist. “Hey there, your highness.”

“What’re you doin’ out of bed, your majesty?”

“Just wondering what was taking you so long.” She was still toasty and warm from being in bed for such a long time, and it was quite a pleasure to Branch—being pressed against the warm body of someone he loved dearly, and his finally-quiet baby daughter snuggled up in his arms, cooing softly.

“I was gonna go in a minute, I promise.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Your majesty thinks she knows everything.”

“Your majesty is right.”

“If this is what I’ll get for settling the baby, I’ll do it again.”

“Good.”

She planted soft, gentle kisses against his shoulder blade, pressed his cheek flat against his back. He let out a small, satisfied hum as he held his daughter close to his chest, eyes closing, content and warm.

“Your highness?”

“Mm?”

“Can we go cuddle? In bed?” Another gentle kiss against the back of his neck.

“Sounds about right, your majesty.”

“Can we bring the baby?”

The baby mewled softly in response.

“I think that means our princess wants to be involved. Any room for one more?”

Poppy let out a quiet laugh—her laughter was sweet and soft, like the sound of tinkling bells. “We can arrange that.”

And the blanket that had been hanging around Poppy’s waist silently slid to the floor as Branch led their way across the baby room back to theirs, her still kissing him soundly.


End file.
